


Nightmares and Flare Guns

by russiansimp



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff, Anxiety, Comforting, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Night Terrors, Nightmares, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:42:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26354404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/russiansimp/pseuds/russiansimp
Summary: Nightmares were a funny thing, they really were. From a psychological standpoint, Zuko knew why they happened. It was simply his mind going over things that had happened, many of which had been unpleasant. But he often wondered if the spirits who determined dreams just hated him.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 252





	Nightmares and Flare Guns

Nightmares were a funny thing, they really were. From a psychological standpoint, Zuko knew why they happened. It was simply his mind going over things that had happened, many of which had been unpleasant. But he often wondered if the spirits who determined dreams just hated him.

They had started directly after the Agni Kai. He’d been in a coma for three months, teetering on the edge of death, with his uncle and the ship’s nurse tending to him day and night. He’d been stuck in an inferno of a night terror, endlessly cycling through every traumatic experience gifted to him by his father and sister over the course of his short, miserable thirteen years. When he finally woke up, it was with a start.

A blood curdling scream had echoed through the steel hallways of the ship, and when Iroh managed to make his way to his nephew’s room, Zuko was a sobbing, babbling mess. It was the first time he had welcomed his uncle’s embrace, melting into him and his assuring words, the fatherly love that his real dad never gave him.

Zuko didn't like talking about that day. There was a certain level of vulnerability about the day he'd woken up, that only his crew had seen. And his crew would continue to see it, every single night.

For the first year, there was the occasional scream, but for the most part, he only woke up sobbing quietly to himself. Over time, it became rare for anyone to feel the need to come check up on him, make sure he was okay. No one even heard him, for the most part. Zuko had a specific routine at night, to keep it that way. He slept on his stomach, biting onto a clean bandage, almost a makeshift gag. He had a tendency to grind his teeth, so it stayed put. So, when he did scream, it was muffled by the gauze, and only he could hear his pathetic reaction to his own mind.

When he’d more or less become a refugee, the nightmares didn't stop, but they seemed to become more bearable. Rather than raging fires all around him, other dangers filled his thoughts. Jet, or others like him, finding out who he was—what he was. His uncle dying, just them being inexplicably separated. The Dai Li made frequent appearances, dragging him onto Fire Nation land and leaving him to die.

Now, these dreams weren't pleasant, not by any stretch of the word. But rather than waking in a panic, he would wake stiff, drenched in sweat, tears running down his face. But, most importantly, in silence.

It stayed that way for the first few weeks of his stay with the Avatar.

Sokka had figured out he had nightmares. Occasionally, he’d come in to check on him. He normally caught him asleep, twitching and crying, but asleep. It was rare that he’d catch him at the moment he gasped and shot up.

For the first few incidents, they would just sit and talk about nonsensical things. The weather, Zuko’s training with Aang that day, what they’d had for dinner that night.

After the incident at the boiling rock, the two were much closer.

He’d begun explaining his dreams, then. They had slowly been reverting back to the hot, flickering panic of his home, his father. Being back in contact with his sister always seemed to do that.

One night, when Sokka had taken a chance to peek into Zuko’s room, he watched him shoot up, gasping and clawing at his collar. Like he was choking—not internally, from food, or anything, no, like he was being strangled. He didn't miss a beat, stepping into the room immediately. “Hey,” he interjected calmly, wanting to bring him back to the real world as quickly as possible.

Zuko didn't hear him.

He was coughing, spitting up nonexistent smoke, sweet and heavy with the smell of burning flesh. It was a smell and taste he preferred not to remember, but it always seemed to rear its ugly head at night.

“Zuko. Hey.”

He flinched violently, jumping what had to be a full inch or two in the air. He let out a sob, covering his mouth. His eyes were red and puffy, he'd obviously been crying for a very long time before waking up. Sokka couldn't tell if he was seeing fear or anger, just desperate sobs, drowning in tears.

“Zuko,” he repeated, slowly approaching the bed to sit down beside him. “Zuko, can you hear me?”

There was a jerky nod. Yes, he could hear him. He wasn't sure at all if he was listening, but he could see Sokka’s lips moving, hear enough to answer the question. He was sitting on his deaf side. He always did, since the Boiling Rock. He had figured out a long time ago that he was blind and deaf on his left. For a while, he’d avoided that side entirely, as to not startle him or make him feel unsafe. But in the prison, he’d been glued securely to his left, almost protecting it.

No one else was allowed to approach him on the left—only Sokka. He didn't trust the others enough. But he felt almost… safer, with Sokka in his blind spot. He knew he wouldn't take advantage of it, and he knew that if there was something he couldn't see, or hear, Sokka would take care of it.

“Take a breath with me,” he encouraged, “in, out. In, out. There you go. You're doing awesome, buddy.”

Zuko nodded shakily, holding his hands to his chest. He could vaguely register that Sokka’s arm was draped around his shoulders, holding him safely in place. He tried to focus on what was real, what wasn't a part of his dream. Sokka, of course. The in and out of his breathing, which he was dutifully following; the beating of his heart, the sound of his voice trying to bring him back down from the adrenaline high he was currently riding. He could focus on the feeling of the stiff mattress below him, the sheets tangled around his legs. He was here—in the air temple, with the Avatar and his friends. With Sokka. He wasn't anywhere near his father. He was safe, he was safe.

“You're safe,” Sokka assured, almost as if reading his mind.

“Y—yeah,” Zuko whispered, finally thinking to speak. Sokka gave his arm an encouraging squeeze, nodding quickly.

“Yeah,” he repeated, sighing gently.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, until Zuko was breathing (rather than hyperventilating) and his heart rate had resumed a healthy pace.

“Wanna tell me about it?” Sokka asked gently. It was a genuine question. He knew Sokka would be happy whether or not he explained his nightmare. He knew that ultimately, he wanted to make him calm, and as happy as he was able to be when in a mad traumatic panic.

“No,” Zuko whispered. If he were honest, he couldn't actually remember much of the sequence. “Not today.”

“Okay,” Sokka nodded. He didn't push. He just agreed. “Want me to stay here for the night?” He offered.

Another nod.

Sokka noticed Zuko slept much more soundly when he offered to spend the night. He didn't want to mention it. He didn't want to face the implications of that thought. And he didn't want it to stop—he didn't want to make it awkward.

The first night on Ember Island, however, was a little more intense when it came to Zuko’s dreams. He’d made a pass on Zuko’s room, checking on him. He was sleeping silently, soundly. So Sokka went right to sleep.

In the dead of night, though, a horrifyingly painful shriek rang through the empty halls of the beach house. The entire team was outside of Zuko’s room when Sokka got there. He hushed them quickly, pushing past to get to the door. He wasn't going to explain this. It wasn't his place to explain, not now, at least. He just slipped into the Prince’s room. He knew that their ears were pressed against the door, but he didn't have the time or sense to care.

“Zuko,” he asked calmly. But he was anything but calm. Zuko looked like a mess—spitting sparks in his panic, fingertips smoking in the sheets. Now, Sokka was freaked out too, but he couldn't show that. He had to be the rock in this situation. “Zuko, honey. Look at me,” he encouraged, slowly walking to crouch before him.

Wild golden eyes met his own. His pupils were smaller than pinpricks. His hair was messy—was it from sleep, or from tugging it in his anxiety?

“Can you hear me?” He asked gently. It was the first thing he always asked. Zuko didn't respond. He couldn't hear him. His ear was ringing, filling his head with a painful, dull screeching. He just stared, lips slightly ajar, tears dripping into his mouth.

Sokka slowly opened his arms, wordlessly asking for permission to touch him. Zuko didn't wait, just desperately clinging onto the other, letting out sobs in place of exhales. He had never seen him crying so damn hard. Was he even breathing? He was burning holes into Sokka's shirt, but the warrior found he didn't care.

He wrapped his arms tightly around the prince, providing as much even pressure as he could, keeping him snugly in place. “Shh,” he cooed. “Shhh, you're okay. You're here, you're safe. That’s it, darlin’, breathe. In and out. You're okay. It's just me here, just me, and Aang, and Katara, and Toph and Suki. Just us. Your dad and Azula are far away from here. They don't know where we are. You're safe.” Zuko was curled up into his lap, clinging to him for dear life. “I know,” he whispered, looking down at him. He found himself pressing an assuring kiss to the back of his head. He didn't think about it, it just seemed like the right thing to do right now. To kiss him, hold him, make sure he knew he was in a place with people who loved him and wanted him safe.

When Zuko found himself properly breathing and hearing, he didn't let go. “You're okay, love. Look, you're okay.”

He gasped shakily, looking up at Sokka after a few minutes. “I fucking hate it here,” he wept, shaking his head so fast that it gave him a headache. “It’s like they're here, Sokka, I just—” he took a ragged breath.

“Slow down, hon,” he cooed. “Look at me. They're not here. They haven't been here in a long time. It's just us. Just the good guys, okay?” He tried, rubbing the dip between Zuko’s shoulderblades.

“You don't get it,” he whispered, weakly hitting his chest. It had no malice, it was more… he needed to make sure Sokka was there, tangible, solid.

“I know I don't,” he admitted. “It's okay, baby. I'm doing my best. You're okay, you're safe. I'm here. Okay?”

There was a stint of silence.

“Okay,” he finally whispered.

Sokka rocked gently on his heel, feeling he was finally calming him down. 

“I'm sorry,” Zuko muttered.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Sokka assured. “Nothing at all. Are you okay?”

“I… no.”

“Are you gonna be able to go back to sleep?”

“No.”

“Want me to stay?”

“ _Please._ ”

“Okay. Yeah, okay. You're okay. You're safe.”

“I…” Zuko shook his head quickly. “I don't think I am.”

The next morning was tense. No one spoke as they ate, circled around the fire on the soft sand of the beach. Zuko still seemed to be in an anxious breakdown, not eating, leaning against Sokka with his arms secure around his waist.

Aang was the one to break it.

“Bad dreams last night?” He asked.

“Mhm,” was Zuko’s only answer.

“You, ummm, wanna talk about it? That helps me, normally.” Sokka shook his head, making a motion at Aang that no, he definitely didn't want to talk about it. “Okay,” he mumbled, nodding and looking down.

There was silence for a long while, the only sound being the crackling of the fire and the water lapping against the shore. “I…” Zuko finally began. “I never have good dreams. They're normally not that bad, uh, not since I was a kid.” He sat up, rubbing his eyes a bit. “Or at least, I learned how to not wake up screaming.” He didn't like everyone’s eyes on them, but they had been all morning.

“How do you even do that?” Toph asked through a mouthful of food.

“I'd, um, gag myself before I went to sleep?” He laughed awkwardly, looking away.

“Dude,” Sokka murmured, rubbing his shoulder gently. Zuko shrugged a bit, looking down at his hands.

“I guess it's not a huge deal,” he mumbled.

“Having to gag yourself so you don't scream isn't…” Sokka sighed gently.

“Well,” he shrugged a bit. “I mean, it's that, or just not sleep. Which… I do that sometimes, too. But that comes with me being mean and my fire can get out of control.” He rubbed his arms a bit, looking away. “Sorry for waking you guys up.”

“Zuko,” Katara began gently, “you don't have to be sorry, okay?”

“You'll tell me that, but I'll never believe you,” he mumbled, finishing off his soup. He placed the empty bowl in the sand, pushing himself to stand and quickly excusing himself.

“Spirits,” Aang murmured once he was out of earshot, rubbing his mouth and chin.

“It was bad, last night,” Sokka sighed. “Poor guy was barely even breathing.”

“It’s kinda cute he lets you calm him down,” Suki remarked, glancing over at Sokka with a knowing grin.

“I mean,” he shrugged a bit, looking down. They fell into silence after a few minutes, but when Sokka was done with his food, he placed his empty bowl beside Zuko’s, getting up to go check on him.

He could hear him gasp and flinch when he knocked, mentally hitting himself. “Zuko?” He asked gently. “It’s me. Can I come in?” He asked gently.

There was a quiet ‘mhm’ from inside. He gently opened the door to see Zuko curled in a right ball on his bed, facing the wall, tucked tightly in his blankets.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured, sitting down next to him. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” he answered, allowing Sokka to move him so he could rest his head in his lap. “Not sleepy… just tired.”

“I get that,” he murmured, running a hand through his hair. Zuko closed his eyes, seeming to finally relax when he felt Sokka’s nails scratch against his skin.

“Thanks for…” he sighed gently, rubbing his good eye. “Dealing with me?”

“It’s not _dealing with you,_ honey. I just want you to feel safe.”

“I feel pretty okay until I fall asleep,” he shrugged.

“I want you to feel safe _all the time,_ Zuko.”

“I don't think that’s ever gonna happen,” he whispered, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“I know,” he let out a heavy sigh. “But I can try.”

“You don't have to.”

“Of course I don't,” Sokka hummed. “But I want to.”

Zuko looked up at him, smiling weakly. “Thank you,” he whispered. He pushed himself to sit up, fitting himself into Sokka’s side and wrapping his arms around him.

“Yeah,” he whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to his hair. He could feel Zuko smile, before the latter tilted his head up, catching Sokka’s lips against his own.

Sokka gasped, but just laughed gently, rubbing his waist.

The nightmares won't stop, he thought, but at least they got him this.


End file.
